Ethical considerations

On the northern side of the city there is a center for the handicapped and other very sick persons. In that center there are patients, respirators and a nurse. On the nurse there is a belt and on the belt there are speakers transmitting the sound of the respirators. If one of those respirators stops, the nurse wakes up and runs.
Breath in... annnnd.... breath out.
The guy is standing in the room, looking at his cellphone. A mentally handicapped man in his thirties wheels in. The guy looks at him and says :"Good evening." with a somehow uncomforting smile. The mentally handicapped man remains silent, he is smiling. He approaches his chair a little further, about one and a half feet of uncertain trust. The guy emits an awkward exclamation, the expression of his cluelessness imprinted on his forehead, it sounded almost as condescending laughter.
The handicapped stops his wheelchair. The guy says :"hello", because thats the only thing on his mind. The handicapped remains silent, he is still smiling.
There are people on artificial respiration here. Every ten minutes or so, an electronic alarm emits a slow and constant ringing at which comes running the nurse. Those are indications of the patients anguish, stemming from the possibility of dying in their sleep, which they try to erase by not sleeping. Are these people still human? What is going on here? Is this acceptable? What can I do? Nothing? OK!
The awkwardness has now reached it's peek. The guy is standing still and waiting for something to happen, the man in the wheelchair is staring at him, they're both smiling. The handicapped man's smile has something very childish to it. It reminds the guy of the expression that girl was showing when he asked her for a dance, that first time he ever asked a girl to dance.
The people here have degenerative pathologies. There is no hope for them. They will degenerate and die. Pretty much the same fate as for everyone else, except in fast-forward, and they have got nothing else to think of. It's hard to divert your thoughts from impending death when your life depends on a respirator.
A weird silence broken by the electronics of the wheelchair finally starting to move. God. The handicap is slowly backing away, maintaining eye contact with the guy, always smiling as if forever, until he disappears behind the wall, in the hallway.